


Genetically altered freaks- and where to find them.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Human Experimentation, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9120307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: Special Agent Phil Lester (also Agent 188) is assigned to assassinate Daniel Howell, a hacker who knows way too much. Though it’s not easy. Especially, after finding out this boy ain’t stupid,  and has a rather devious plan of his own. Upon realising he’s suddenly in the clutches of a boy who just wants to be loved, he finds he too becomes a victim of Dan Howell's manic and lonely mind. But apart from being maybe kind of adorable, Dan Howell is dangerous and his actions set off a chain of events where Phil, a now genetically altered freak as well as an agent, and Dan- now a-deranged scientist, have to work together to round up a bunch of kids with screwed up DNA before they wreck havoc on the real world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i watched Fantastic Beasts and then i sat for a long time staring at a bunch of Secret Agent AU prompt idea's. Then this came to mind. Enjoy...I hope??

**Part 1.**

**-**

**MI5 MEDIC FILE - 4.5.6**

**RESTRICTED ACCESS**

**ROOM 560-CASE FILE: 15**

**FOR YOUR INFORMATION:**

**FRS (Forced Romantics Serum) was developed in 2017 by Doctor Katherine Jacobs. The serum was created for use as an interrogation method as when entering the bloodstream the serum can hinder the user helpless. The serum will affect the limbic system, located in the temporal lobe which controls emotions such as fear and love. The serum works in a way of boosting that part of the brain, so the subject and user suddenly has uncontrollable affection for the interrogator. The serum also acts as a truth serum, where while the subject is under the influence of the serum, they will answer any question given with the truth.**

**As of March 30th 2017 the serum has been discontinued by Director General of the MI5 Andrew Parker due to side effects including loss of consciousness for a long period of time resulting in comatose patients, brain damage and in some rare cases subjects have died.**

**WARNING: DO NOT MIX WITH ANY OTHER CHEMICAL OR SERUM.**

**-**

PART: 1 - PHIL.

Phil Lester jumped at the sight of a new assignment. So when he plopped down in his office chair around mid-morning time, maybe slightly hungover from a night binge-watching Stranger Things with a few beers. It took him a few minutes to gather himself as he stared down at his messy desk exactly the way he’d left it last night. Case files were piled up, his laptop still open showing an empty word document. Ah, FILE 67LG7. He still hadn’t written up that report.

Phil mumbled a melody he heard last night on some radio show softly under his breath as he sat and dragged a hand through tangles of his dark hair, trying really damn hard to keep his eyes open. He loved his job. Though sometimes he hated it. Like now, on a Monday morning where he was very obviously in the midst of a pretty shitty hangover- he had to write up a report. He had worked his ass off to get here though. As an agent for the MI5. He’d started off as an analyst after his University scores had been spotted by the agency at the age of nineteen. Then he went to the academy, trained for two years, and now here he was, one of the MI5’s top assasin’s, slumped at his desk.

_God, I’m tired._ His eyelashes fluttered and he had to pinch himself to stay awake.

Phil groaned, rubbing his stomach. He really fancied a bacon sandwich. Was the cafeteria open? He lay back in his chair and started to consider balancing matchsticks under his eyelashes as all the movies and TV shows said. He’d been fingering a box of matches when his colleagues started to pour into the offices. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, slipping the matches back into his pocket.

So after a sip of coffee, he’d still been nursing a headache after popping a few paracetamols- though the growing pain flaring across his forehead was a stubborn bastard. Phil sat back on his chair, relishing in the smooth leather welcoming his stiff back. He’d managed to fall asleep awkwardly last night, waking up not just with a banging headache, but also crippling pain shooting up his spine.

“You’re looking like shit this morning.” he turned, wincing, to meet the smirking face of his colleague, PJ Liguori, who always seemed to look like he’d just stepped out of the Hamptons. The man was a few years older than him, and that was evident in the way he dressed himself. PJ was wearing a suit (pressed of course) and had styled his hair in a fringe which brushed across his forehead in just the right way. At that very moment, Phil wanted to punch his colleague in the face. How PJ could be this happy at 9am was beyond him.  The guy was holding two case files in his arms. Phil bristled. How come PJ got to work two cases at the same time?

Phil himself didn’t exactly look the part of a MI5 special agent that morning.He was wearing the shirt and trousers from yesterday, where a blackish stain from the chinese gravy he’d splashed all over his chips last night- was really quite obvious on his bleached white shirt. His hair wasn’t much better; an unbrushed mop which might have looked cute if he was at a guy’s house, still buried underneath sheets and stale passion from the night before.  But here at work, at one of the biggest agency’s in England, he just looked incompetent and scruffy.

“Thanks.” was all Phil could cough out. His lips were dry and he picked up his mug which ironically displayed in bold black letters: MORNING PERSON. PJ noticed and smirked at him, which tested his patience even more. After sipping lukewarm coffee and swallowing the urge to vomit, Phil swivelled around in his office chair, fixing his colleague with an irritated look. “Did you come here for something?” he mumbled, tasting a mix of this morning’s toothpaste and a hint of Foster’s when he ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth.

PJ smirked and walked over. Phil watched him with narrowed eyes. Did he _ask_ PJ to walk in? “Actually, me and Chris are working on a case together.” Phil rolled his eyes. Like he cared. PJ held up the first file and chucked it on Phil’s desk where it kind of exploded, papers and plastic wallets with photographs of what looked like kids in their early 20’s flew out. “Over the last few months, seven kids in their early twenties have disappeared.” PJ walked over, stabbing one of the photographs- a smiling boy with sandy coloured hair. “This is the most recent one,” he said. “James Harper. Aged twenty. He was reported missing yesterday by concerned parents.”

Phil shrugged. “He went on an all night ‘sesh’ as the kids say,” he held up two fingers in mock quotation marks- “and hasn’t got back yet.” he smiled up at PJ. “Done. Case solved.”

PJ rolled his eyes. “Except from the fact that this kid is a brainiac with pretty much no life.” he said. “The report says this James Harper doesn’t drink, hasn’t smoked, taken drugs..” he sighed. “The kid is squeaky clean which is why we’re linking him to the other disappearances.” before Phil could answer, PJ knelt down and started sorting through pages of intel, picking out each photo of these supposed missing kids. “First one dates back to July this year,” PJ pointed to a smiling girl with sunshine blonde hair. “Her name’s Rosie Keaton,” PJ explained. “She, like our pal James here- was also some kind of smarty pants who never had a social life.”

“Smarty pants?” Phil smirked. “How old are you, five?” PJ ignored him. “The rest of them speak for themselves. “Hannah Ford, Jamie Porter, Joseph Sugg.. the list goes on.”

Phil frowned, his eyes scanning the photo’s. “There is one thing,” PJ said. “All the missing kids go to Salford University.” the other agent straightened up with a smile. “Me and Chris are going to see if we can interview some kids. See if any-one talks.”

Phil’s gaze seemed stuck on the first boy. James. They were practically the same age give or take a few years. “And you think, what? There’s some serial killer picking off University students?”

PJ shrugged. “Maybe.” Phil eyed him, and then eyed the second file PJ hadn’t thrown down. “Is that your case too?” he gestured to the second assignment, letting out a yawn. Man, he was tired.

PJ just scoffed and held up something that caught Phil’s sudden very alert eyes. The familiar leather backing chased away the remnants of his hangover and he found himself jumping up excitedly. “Assassination?” he asked hopefully, and oh god, he was pawing at the file like an excited puppy. PJ just shook his perfect hair out of his eyes and handed it over. “You know, it’s disturbing how excited you get when you get an assassination, right?” the man mumbled, before stalking away. Probably to make out with an unsuspecting Chris Kendall like every morning.

Special agent PJ Liguori and Chris Kendall’s strange work-fling had been going on for a while now, and it was also the reason which made Phil wonder: _“Fuck, is everyone here gay?”_

Yes. Two analysts, Zoe Sugg, a raven haired pretty girl with a permanent grin and Louise Pentland, the kind of girl you would never think would get into the MI5. But here she was, blonde hair up in pigtails wrapped in bright red ribbons like she was still in high school. Louise was a big girl, nobody could argue that. But damn, was she beautiful. Zoe was a lucky woman. Louise Pentland was one of the top analysts- she could track a cyber terrorist in under twenty seconds.

Zoe and Louise were office sweethearts. Phil caught them a lot of the time either making out over their desks or more recently, Zoe just kind of leant into Louise, nuzzling into the other girl - and Phil thought it was fucking adorable.

Though there were heterosexuals of course. Every office- even in the MI5- had to have balance. Shane and Hannah, two assasin’s like him, had gotten married just last week. It had been an island wedding, and apparently there had been a fuck load of fireworks.

With Chris and PJ it was almost part of some kind of morning ritual. After briefing, PJ would wander over to where Chris, who was worse than Phil for the hangovers- was leaning on the photocopier, taking way too long to photocopy those three POI files. Phil watched it every morning; PJ would do something dorky and dumb to get Chris’s attention, and Chris, with bloodshot eyes, tousled brown hair falling in his eyes and a lazy smirk would laugh way too hard and drag PJ off to some storage closet.  It was like highschool all over again.  Except it was totally justifiable because Phil and his colleagues were part of an agency who protected the country. So who said they couldn’t make out in a storage closet?

Anyway, back to the new assignment.  After taking a quick skim-read through of his new case-file he grabbed his jacket, phone and keys and rushed off, catching a single glance of a dishevelled looking PJ walking, or stumbling back to his office. He scoffed to himself. “Don’t you have missing kids to find?” he shouted over to the other man, who just gave him the finger.

“Of course.” Phil smirked to himself, exiting the offices trying to put his jacket on at the same as taking another look through his new assignment. Suddenly something or rather someone barged into him as they rushed past. “Sorry!” they- or she - shouted over her shoulder.

Phil rolled his eyes. “It’s fine!” he shouted back, then to himself under his breath; “Moron.”

*

The case file was heavy. Just what exactly had this kid been up to? Phil Lester, also Special Intelligence Operative 188 stared down at his new assignment, blue eyes flickering across pages and pages of intel. “Bla, bla, bla..” he muttered, taking a sip of coffee out of a styrofoam cup. Ouch. It was fucking scolding, god dammit. He growled to himself, winding his car window down and pouring the coffee out where it sloshed onto the pavement with a rather gross sounding _sploosh._

His tongue hurt now. A searing pain overwhelmed his mouth and he was suddenly craving a cool glass of water.  He ran his raw tongue over his teeth, scathing them gently, as he continued to scan the text. So it _was_ an assassination. Here it comes; the curl of his lips forming into a smirk when he read the word. ASSASSINATION. It was a pretty beautiful word. Finally an assignment he could sink his teeth into and enjoy. Plus, how could he pass up a chance to take the life of some low-life who was trying to blow up the country?

Actually, no.. Phil re-read the intel in front of him and his smirk became a frown.  Not exactly blow up the country. Below the intel was a simple POI profile:

**NAME: DANIEL JAMES HOWELL**

**Age: 22**

**Occupation: STUDENT**

**THREAT LEVEL: HIGH**

**THREAT DESCRIPTION: MR HOWELL HAS ACCESS TO HIGH-LEVEL SECURITY AND MUST BE DEALT WITH ACCORDINGLY.  PLEASE USE FORCE IF NEED BE.**

Below the description was a colour photo of Phil’s next assassination; it looked like it had been taken out Univeristy records. Well, it did say the boy was a student. The photo was grainy, but showed a young man around his age with short scruffy hair and wide brown eyes staring into the camera. Phil might have thought the kid looked scared if it wasn’t for the smug smirk plastered on the boy’s lips. Phil’s own lip curled slightly. It was definitely a “Come and get me” smirk.

Phil didn’t know if it was the smug smirk or playful eyes of this Daniel Howell, but he felt his whole body ignite with…something. He pulled his car into drive and burned rubber, reversing rather violently from his parking spot. While he drove, tackling traffic, he couldn’t help stealing glances at his new assignment. “Cocky bastard,” he muttered. But for some reason he couldn’t stop staring at that damn photo. He grabbed it, ripping it out of the file and chucking it over his shoulder- relishing in relief- and then realising his mistake. What the hell was he thinking?!

Concentrate, Jesus Christ!” he scolded himself, giving himself a quick once-over in the car mirror. What was wrong with him? His cheeks were flushed, pupils dilated and before he could stop it, a small smile plastered right there on his normally stoic lips. He stared at himself for a second, forcing his lips to form a frown, for his eyes to be steely once again.

Phil thumbed his Bluetooth and static crackled in his ear. “Could I have Daniel Howell’s last known whereabouts please?” another burst of feedback before: “Agent 188, his last whereabouts were at his home address,” a scratchy voice, some guy working in tech probably, replied dully.   

Then there was a  pause, the sound of clicking keys made Phil roll his eyes. Hurry up! “Which I believe he is still at.”

Phil grinned in the mirror. “Right, got it. Thanks.” he ended the call and stamped on the gas, glancing at the file balanced on the car’s dashboard. He scanned for the boy’s home address,  but then found his eyes wandering further- to the picture? He’d thrown it at the back! He growled to himself, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. He shouldn’t feel like this. He was the kind of guy who had one-night stands and then deleted numbers from his phone. He didn’t feel emotion. He was a sarcastic bastard who would rather shoot someone in the head than be in a relationship. Phil eyed himself in the mirror once again. Icy blue eyes, steely smirk. That’s right. Not that blushing bullshit.

For the next few minutes, Phi sat in a comfortable silence, which he loved. Oh, the solitude. Rain dribbled down the car windows from an ever-greying sky as he scanned street signs, turning into Daniel Howell’s neighbourhood. Wow, this guy was a rich fucker. He parked at the end of the street to avoid suspicion and climbed out, grabbing his gun and stuffing it into the holster hidden under his shirt.

“What’s that?” a high and squeaky tone nearly made him drop the damn thing. He turned to meet eyes with two kids who couldn’t have been older than ten years old. Phil considered telling them it was a MX40- a pistol capable of ending a life in seconds. “Nothing, out of the way.” he muttered, making a shooing motion with his arm. The kid’s didn’t budge. “I asked you a question.” the little girl said, with a tone of a kid who always got her own way. Phil spun around, anger flaring in his expression. His earpiece crackled. “Agent? Is there a problem?”

Phil growled at the kids, who didn’t seem intimidated at all. The little girl stood her ground, while the boy stared at him through wide green eyes, his mouth open, catching flies.

“Nope!” Phil said cheerfully. “No problem at all, it’s just these little..these little..” he eyed the girl who gave him a bitter grin. He couldn’t stop himself. He stuck his tongue out at her. “Just these little shits” he grumbled, side-stepping away from the girl, who copied his exact move.

“You’re not allowed to swear.” the little girl said as-a-matter-of-factly. “My mummy said my sister has to put a penny in the swear jar.”

Phil bristled, his patience worn thin. “Well, do I look like your sister?” he hissed.

The little girl cocked her head with a small smile. “Maybe.” she shrugged. “You have her eyes.”

Phil frowned. That threw him off. He struggled with a reply, but before he could answer the little kid with his own smart-ass comment, he was interrupted by an amused voice. “What’s going on here? Kira shouldn’t you be harassing the teenagers down the road?”

Phil turned to find himself staring into familiar brown eyes in mid eye-roll. He straightened up, his hands for some reason going to straighten his fringe. He surveyed the boy- the same smug smile, this time directed at him. The same chocolate coloured mop falling in-

Oh. Phil frowned in disappointment. The boy didn’t have the same muddy brown eyes like in the photograph. Instead, this boy’s eyes were a startling green which almost blinded him. He swallowed the urge to ask if Dan had been bitten by a radioactive spider, but buried down the impulse.

_Act professional._  

Phil didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out in one huff. For some reason this made his stomach flip over. Phil cleared his throat and clumsily started pawing at his belt for his gun, but he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze off this boy- tall and olive skinned with bright eyes, a smirk slowly becoming a dimpled grin when he felt his own cheeks flush.

“You’re a meanie, Daniel. I was just saying hello,” the little girl- or Kira- let out a laugh and turned away, dragging the little boy with her. When the kids had gone, Phil managed to conjure up a thought as well as his breath. Though his cheeks were still burning.  What was WRONG with him?!

His assignment, Daniel Howell, holding books to his chest and shouldering a backpack, smiled at him almost apologetically, though there was something else in that smile too.

“Sorry about them two,” Dan rolled his eyes with another dimpled grin- and fuck- Phil’s stomach was rolling over again. The kid seemed completely oblivious. “Are you looking for someone?”

Phil found his voice. “Y- yes.” he managed. Meanwhile, his earpiece was going haywire. “Agent, shoot on sight! What are you waiting for?!”

What the heck did this kid do wrong to be on the MI5’s hitlist? Phil wondered, but he also wondered are those actual gold specks in his eyes?

Dan let out a laugh. “Dude, are you okay?” Though he paled and took a step backwards when Phil’s shaky hand went to unhook his gun from it’s holster. Phil never got shaky during an assignment. What the hell was wrong with him, was he ill?

Phil wanted to apologise. He wanted to give the boy a hug- he even wanted to tell the kid to run as far away as possible. Instead however, he pointed his gun at Dan, who had now frozen, eyes widening and lips forming an O. Be professional. He told himself. So he stopped his hand from shaking, and glared at Dan- a cold and steely gaze. He needed Dan to be afraid.

“I- I don’t understand..” Dan was visibly shaking, Phil realized. He cocked his head slightly, frowning at his assignment. Was Dan….crying? He stared as tears trickled down the kid’s face as Dan started to sob his way through a plead for mercy. “Please don’t- don’t kill me…I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong….” Phil found himself lowering the gun slightly, sympathy starting to pang in his chest as well as something he’d rather keep hidden deep, deep down.

Oh, shit. Phil wanted to hit himself. Was he feeling…..sympathy? He regarded his assignment, this time not with instinct to kill, but maybe- maybe this time he just looked at the kid.

Dan stood there, having dropped the books clutched to his chest. He was a shaking and sobbing mess- wide eyes darting around the neighbourhood trying to look for any kind of help.

Phil sighed, already regretting his next case of actions. “Oh, for fuck sake.” he lowered his gun and forced his lips to be some kind of not hostile. “Look kid, between me and you I really don’t want to do this.” he prayed his mic was off. Though he knew they were listening already.

Dan seemed to stop shaking. “But- but what have I done wrong?” he took a hasty step towards Phil, raising his arms in surrender. Phil winced. _I’m so fucking fired._

“Okay, look,” Phil let his arm holding his gun fall to his side. He wasn’t really ready for what happened next. “Agent 188? Have you neutralised the threat?” his earpiece cackled, and he rolled his eyes. “Uh…I’m working on it.” he struggled. “Just give me a few more-” he yelped suddenly, when Dan- the fucking sobbing mess he had been a few seconds ago- threw himself forwards, the kid’s curled fist knocking right into his cheek. He stumbled then, not completely thrown off, but shaken enough for Dan to grab his arm, twisting it around his back and disarming his gun. “What the hell are you doing?!” was all he could yell, as Dan, now holding his gun, pointed it directly at his head. Phil felt dizzy. Dan’s eyes were half shut like a sly cat, his mouth curled into the same smirk on his photograph. “You underestimated me.” Dan said, or rather spat, his index finger lying straight on the trigger. Phil stumbled backwards, his eyes cold and dangerous. “You fucking little shit.” he growled. Then before he could help it he himself had that smart-ass smirk plastered on his face. “You don’t know how to use one of those.” he gestured at the gun with a cock of his head. Dan’s reply was a grin. “You mean I don’t know how to do this?” before Phil could react, Dan pulled the trigger, pointing right next to his foot. The gun backfired in Dan’s hand and a bullet hit the pavement, making Phil flinch. Okay, so maybe he _could_ use the gun.

Dan shook his head, grinning. “Walk.” he stabbed the gun into Phil’s back, and before the agent could hiss for help into his Bluetooth, Dan reached out and ripped the device from Phil’s ear, throwing it on the ground and blasting it with fifteen bullets. He missed a few times but the first three bullets hit the earpiece with just enough damage to hinder it forever useless.

Phil had no choice but to walk across the street, presumably towards the younger hacker’s house. “So tell me,” he attempted making conversation. He had a knife hidden in a holster just below his knee under his trousers. If he could just reach it he could end this fucking mess.

“Why do the MI5 want you dead?” he figured he’d have to wait till he was inside to dart for his knife, so he kept things cool and calm. He kept his arms raised and tried not to think about his favourite gun digging rather painfully into his spine. Phil expected the hacker to ignore him, but Dan answered. “I figured out how to get the nuke codes. No biggie really.”

_This kid knows the nuclear codes?!_ Phil had never felt like this before- something washed over him, causing zigzags of shivers up and down his spine. Goosebumps tickled his flesh under his shirt and his chest ached. It was fear. But damn, he couldn’t help letting out a laugh. “A dumb kid like you knows the nuclear codes?” he laughed, but Dan obviously didn’t find that funny, because the gun dug further into his back and he resisted the urge to hiss in pain. Dan giggled behind him. “I dunno man, I’m just a dumb kid, but do you mind telling me why you have knives stuck to your legs?” Phil stopped walking then. They were just outside Dan’s front door. He let out a sigh. Screw this. He twisted around and aimed a kick to the kid’s face, but Dan was ready, and managed to dodge it, somersaulting out of the way. What?! Phil stared as Dan dodged every single one of his punches, ducking and blocking and even rolling underneath him, managing to twist his arms behind his back. Phil struggled.  “How do you know how to fight?!”

“Thank you kindly.” Dan disarmed the knives from underneath Phil’s trousers and chucked them over his shoulder. Phil winced when he heard them clang loudly when they disappeared in Dan’s neatly kept garden. Phil growled, struggling violently. But Dan kept a hold of him. “Tell me! How the hell do you know how to take someone down?”

Dan didn’t answer, instead, he threw open his front door and dragged Phil inside. With strength that confused him. He then felt like he had no other choice. Chris, PJ and the analysts would tease him until he was fifty feet under but he was unarmed and currently being held hostage by a Level 5. “Help!” he tried, but his voice came out shaky and not-at-all his usual stomach churning screech. “Somebody fucking help me!” he was about to scream that he was an agent working for the MI5 and that Dan was very dangerous but before he could, a sweaty hand gagged him so he couldn’t yell. Eurgh! He knew he was being unprofessional. Damn, he was being completely unprofessional. But he still made a gagging noise, wrenching his mouth away from Dan’s hand. “Your hands are disgusting!” when Dan laughed in response, he huffed. “Dirty bastard.” he grumbled.

Daniel Howell’s house wasn’t anything special. You could tell the boy lived on his own, off campus. Phil expected Dan to yank him on the sofa or the kitchen table, but the kid led him past a rather homey looking kitchen, a breakfast plate and glass of juice still on the table- right over to a wooden door which practically screamed _basement._ Phil started to struggle again, but it wasn’t easy when Dan had a hefty hold of his arms, and damn was the kid fucking _strong._

“What  even is this?!” Phil demanded as Dan dragged him through the door, and down a marble staircase. Phil couldn’t help looking around. His stomach churned. This was definitely a serial killer’s basement. Dan just laughed. “It’s my basement. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Phil stayed silent as Dan lead him down the stairs with more force than necessary, His arms were pinned to his back, his gun in the psycho’s possession and his ear-piece crushed on the road outside. He was screwed. Well, for now. Surely they’d track him back here, but what the hell was Dan going to do to him before that?

It was pitch black. Phil’s stomach continued to do flip-flops as Dan dragged him down each step. He had to keep feeling around for the next step with his foot, otherwise Dan seemed happy to see him trip and smack his head on the concrete steps.

“Ow!” he let out a hiss when Dan dug his very sharp fingernails into the flesh of his arms. Dan giggled. “Sorry! I just get really excited at this part.”

Phil frowned, though thank god Dan couldn’t see the disgusted snarl on his face. “What the hell do you mean ‘this part’?”

They reached the bottom of the staircase. Well, Phil presumes that when he can’t feel another step below. They stand in a comfortable silence for a second. Dan practically hopping up and down with excitement and Phil trying to desperately figure out ways to get out of this fucking mess. Though everything he learned in the academy, all the tricks and ways out of sticky situations like this- they all seemed to blank him. All he could really think about right now, was the fact that Daniel Howell’s breathing was uneven in the darkness, his face inches from his own,

When Dan broke the silence with a giggle, Phil grunted and leaned away, letting out a disgusted hiss. “Personal space, you freak!” he grumbled. He was pretty sure Dan was grinning- a psychopathic cheshire cat- grin in the pitch dark. Phil shivered. It was so unsettling.

Dan ignored Phil’s insult, instead reaching around in the darkness. Phil’s eyes started to adjust to the dark and he managed to make out a huge outline of something in the middle of the room. What was that? He leaned forward, well, as far as Dan would let him, and narrowed his eyes, squinting. Though he didn’t have to in the next second. Dan was moving around in the darkness, somehow still keeping a tight hold of Phil- it turned out he was pawing for the light switch.

Phil winced when light began to flood the room, the sodium lights above flickering slightly before flashing completely on, blinding him for a second. “Shit.” he grumbled softly, ducking his head to avoid the exposure.  When his retina’s had stopped burning. “Sorry about that!” Dan said in a sing-song voice. “I’m working on getting new lights.” Phil didn’t answer, because for once, he was speechless. When he finally looked up, he was no longer staring into a chasm of darkness and mystery. He let out a soft whimper and tried to stumble backwards, but Dan held him tightly.

Daniel Howell’s basement reminded him of something he’d see on a horror film, or rather a science fiction TV show. He was staring at a dozen cages, which of course were the outlines he managed to salvage with limited vision in the darkness. Phil bristled, any emotion he felt towards Dan, hate or maybe something else, disappearing in a single second. Fear replaced it. He never got scared. Not even last year when him, PJ and Kennedy had been held hostage in a bank with other commuters. He hadn’t moved an inch, not even blinked, when he’d been held at gunpoint. Completely helpless. PJ and Kennedy had been forwarded to counselling. But he had refused.

Now, however, Special agent Operative Phil Lester wasn’t an assassinator for the MI5, he wasn’t a cynical young man in his mid-twenties who hated pop-culture references and rolled his eyes at almost everything his colleagues said. No, he was just a twenty three year old man who was fucking terrified. In his line of vision, Phil could make out shapes in the cages, and then his heart started to slam into his chest when he realized they weren’t animals. He recognised sunshine blonde hair, now a ratty and knotty mess pooling on the floor and one name crossed his mind.

Rose Keaton. The missing kid. He only recognised her because of the telltale hair and her pale skin, which Phil remembered thinking reminded him of snow-white minus the blonde hair. Rosie was in the middle cage, curled up against the bars that imprisoned her. Before he could help it, Phil’s training kicked in, and he threw himself forwards, finally wrenching himself out of Dan’s grip. Something, a panicked thought, crossed his mind; Run! But instead he leapt over to the cages, Rosie’s cage, and knelt in front of it, grabbing onto the bars. “Rosie!” he yelled through the bars. “Miss Keaton, can you hear me?” he frowned in confusion when Rosie didn’t answer, she didn’t even seem to acknowledge his sudden presence in front of her. But her eyes were open, he realized when he got closer. He couldn’t help noticing that instead of the powder-blue shade her eyes had been on the photograph, Rosie Keaton’s eyes resembled those of once again, a television character. Peter Parker becoming Spider man, Barry Allen getting his Flash powers. Her eyes were a shade of green he had never seen before, except from maybe on TV.

His gaze zipped over to the other side of the room, and he all the hairs on his neck stood up. Past the cages, past the horrors of obvious human imprisonment, was the kind of contraption that once again, he’d expect to see on a wide-screen. It resembled a dentist’s chair- maybe it was a dentist chair. Though dentist chairs didn’t have velcro straps on either arm rest. Designed to trap it’s occupant. Phil hated dentists, but what he was looking at made a dentist’s chair look like some kind of fucked up kid’s fairground ride. It was a chair, which reclined into a bed, with white plastic covering it as some kind of makeshift sheet. Above the chair, was some kind of metallic helmet, spewing different coloured wires -  which must have once rested on the head’s of these missing kids. Finally, there was a metal cabinet next to the chair, filled with vials and vials of different coloured mixtures and concoctions. And oh god, a syringe the size of his hand lying immobile on the surface- as if waiting for it’s next victim to be strapped to that fucking chair.

He felt sick. He was going to throw up.

Phil lost his breath when Rosie made a small noise, resembling an animal’s squeak. He span around from the horrors of the dentist chair, which ironically sounded like a Goosebumps novel- and found himself looking back at Rosie. The first thing he noticed was that her iris was the same colour as Dan’s.

She stared at him with wide eyes, impossible green eyes the shade of radioactive waste, almost illuminating her entire face in a pale, unsettling lime glow. Though it was like she couldn’t see him. Rosie Keaton cocked her head, her eyebrows creasing in confusion, like…like a dog. Phil straightened up, but his legs were jelloid. Dan was standing right behind him, blocking his escape route, and the the kid had the biggest smile on his face, like Phil was mentally begging Dan to explain everything. Phil decided to feed his fire. “What did you do to her?” he growled, and then gestured to the cages either side of Rosie’s where James Harper and Joseph Sugg, Hannah Ford and Jamie Porter, all the missing kids Chris and PJ are looking for- were all directly in front of him locked in cages like they were attraction’s in Dan’s personal fucking zoo. “What did you do to THEM?!” Phil’s patience started to thin as Dan’s grin only seemed to get bigger, as if he was a proud father proud of his kids. Dan shrugged. “They’re failures.” he finally said, his expression seemed to dim slightly, and Phil swore he caught…shame? Decorated across the boy’s face. Dan stroked the bars of Rosie’s cage and let out a sigh. “She was my first attempt. But the process went wrong.” he looked directly into Phil’s eyes, and finally he seemed to be acting serious. “You have to understand,” he gestures to the cages. “I can never let them go.”

That statement sent shivers once again crawling up his spine. He started to struggle through his words. “What- what do you- what do you..” the lisp he swore he had gotten rid at the age of fifteen seemed to resurface and he took a deep breath, forcing his words out calmly, even when he felt like he was going to vomit. “What do you mean you can’t let them go?!” he hissed.

Dan shrugged again. Like it was some situation easily solved. Like Phil had just told him it was raining outside and they couldn’t play a game of football. _No problem, we’ll just play inside._

Phil stared at Dan, and suddenly really wanted to punch the kid’s lights out. He could do that right? His arms were free. He clenched his fists by his sides. But what if Dan was right? What if these kids really were a danger to society if he let them out?

“Look,” Dan took a step forwards. “She only recognises my voice.” he knelt down, his knees scathing the concrete floor. “Rosie?” Dan murmured softly. Phil stared as the girl’s eyes widened and her lips stretched into a small smile. Phil expected her to speak, but she didn’t, only nuzzling the cage bars with her forehead. “Are you okay?” Dan’s tone was so gentle Phil could hardly believe it. Gone was the crazy grin on his face, replaced by what looked like the smile a father would beam at his daughter. Phil took a small, very subtle step backwards. While Dan was with Rosie, he could run. He could get out out there and get help. That’s what his mind screamed. But his feet stayed glued to the floor. He couldn’t take his eyes off Rosie and her impossible green eyes. He had to know what he had done to her.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Rosie smiled dreamily at Dan and then she covered her mouth, her eyes suddenly widening. “Shit.” Dan stumbled backwards, grabbing Phil and dragging him with him. When they were at a “safe” distance away from the cage, Phil watched in mild-horror as the girl, Rosie Keaton, seemed to suddenly have a coughing fit. But when her chest convulsed, liquid fire burst out of her mouth, like it would a dragon. It came out in bright orange swirls that Phil couldn’t deny was actual fire. He stared, open-mouthed. The girl was coughing fire. A million thoughts seemed to surface in his mind, but the top one, the one that was screaming at him, fighting against questions like: “How is her mouth not melting?” and “Where’s the fire coming from?! - there was a simple, very small thought: _Run._

He wanted to. Oh god, he wanted to. But his gaze stayed trained on Rosie and her fire breathing. All he could think of as he watched her sit cross-legged in her cage, gasping and coughing, but every time she did either, actual real-life fire streamed out of her mouth- was that Dan was right. He couldn’t let Rosie out of this cage. If she got out, there’d be mass panic. She could probably burn half of Manchester if she got a fucking chest infection. “See.” Dan interrupted his thoughts and turned to him with a knowing smirk. “How can I let _that_ out into the open?”

_“That?!”_ Phil finally seemed to break. He turned to Dan, his mouth twisted with disgust. “That has a fucking name!” he hissed. Then feeling more confident; “What did you do to her?!”

Dan didn’t answer, only letting out a sigh. “Look, as much as I’d love to talk about my failures with their endearing modifications, I’d actually like to get on with testing my new subject.” his smirk seemed to be back, curling across his lips and lighting his eyes up brighter than they had ever been. “You.”

Phil’s entire body went freezing cold. His blood turned to ice, his breathing seemed to stop. “What?” his voice came out in a whimper. He glanced at Rosie, then at the others- at James who’s telltale strange “modification” as Dan called it, was chewing through his bars with the teeth and jaws of a shark. Dan saw Phil’s horrified look at the teenager and rolled his eyes. “Don’t you worry about James,” he said with what Phil guessed was a reassuring smile. “I made sure he can’t chew through his bars.” Phil couldn’t help noticing Dan sounded like he was lying.

“Okay!” Dan took a hold of Phil’s arm, and Phil almost _, almost_ felt a sense of familiarity, as if Dan’s touch had always been there. “Let’s get you to the chair.”

“What?” the wonder and curiosity of Rosie and James’s…..gifts- seemed to disperse from his mind, and he felt a familiar tingle creeping up his spine. “No.” he stumbled backwards, reaching for his belt on instinct and then letting out a hiss of frustration when he only pawed the material of his t-shirt.

Dan frowned at him. “Agent.” he said, or rather growled, holding up Phil’s badge. Dan scanned his ID and then grinned at him. “Phil Lester.” he said, tasting Phil’s name in his tone like a new flavour of spice. “You can either come willingly, or I’ll _make_ you.” he pulled a syringe out of his pocket and Phil saw red but reluctantly relaxed and let Dan drag him across the basement. He didn’t even bother digging his feet in or trying to make a run for it. For all he knew Dan was ex MI5 gone rogue, and that’s why he was on the agency’s hitlist. He just hoped they’d find him in time before Dan turned his brain to mush, like he did with those poor kids.

As he was dragged helplessly across the room, James jumped up, wrapping his hands around the bars of his cage and fixing Phil with a huge shark grin- or quite literal shark grin. Because the kid’s teeth were all..wrong. Too many fangs and sharp, dangerous corners to each tooth. James nodded at him and continued to persistently chew at his metal prison. Phil only stared, and tried to tell the kid with his eyes that everything’s going to be fine and I’ll get you out of here. But James stared straight through him like Rosie had done, completely and utterly braindead.

Dan managed to strap him to the dentist chair, despite his sudden struggles when they reached it. “No, please- don’t..don’t do this!” Phil started to violently hit back, aiming a weak kick and punch in Dan’s direction, but it was like the other man knew all his moves. Dan twisted his arms behind his back before he could cause damage, and lifted him onto the chair. He sprung up, trying to get out, but Dan had already strapped his wrists down. He was completely helpless.

_Think_. He told himself mentally. If he knew what Dan did to those kids, there was a chance of him somehow getting the upper-hand on this psycho, breaking out, and getting help. He winced when Dan rested the strange helmet-contraption on his head. The wires tickled his forehead. Dan lent over him fiddling with the helmet and then making sure he was securely trapped. I could headbutt him Phil thought, as Dan sent him a reassuring smile. He couldn’t help it. No matter how screwed up this situation was, he still couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from Dan.

Dan Howell, a psychopathic young genius. Standing there now holding a syringe that could potentially end his brain function and fuck with his DNA.  But he was also Dan, the guy he maybe thought was kind of cute. They were both standing there grinning at him, and damn those fucking dimples. Phil’s throat was dry. He licked his lips and swallowed, twisting his head so he could get a good look at the vials that Dan was playing around with. His heart started racing. Surely you can’t mix that many chemicals?! He cleared his throat. “What exactly are you- you going to do to me?” his voice was shaking, no all of him was shaking. Dan grinned in response. Instead he cocked his head, rolling up the sleeve of Phil’s shirt and dabbing a patch of skin with a cotton ball. It tickled and Phil had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling. Instead he went into MI5 mode; He has medical experience he thought suddenly. Is he some kind of doctor, or a med student?

“Well, you’re the MI5 agent,” Dan smirked. “What do _you_ think I’m going to do?” he examined the needle and flicked it a few times. Phil held his breath and struggled against the Velcro straps. He didn’t have much time. “So tell me,” he growled. “Every deranged villain has a back story.”

Dan laughed at that. “I’m no villain, Phil.” he said. Then he sighed. “Fine, you want a backstory?” the boy lay the syringe back down and Phil’s entire body flooded with relief. Now if I can just get him to talk. Dan folded his arms. “Nobody has ever fallen in love with me.” he said rather abruptly, and Phil thought he was hearing things. What?! That was Dan’s big villainous speech? But he nodded and gestured his head, as much as the Velcro straps across his forehead would let him. “So, what, you kidnap people and fuck with their head’s so you’re not lonely?”

Dan had a smile on his face. He picked the syringe back up and dangled it in front of a breathless Phil. “No.” he said. “I injected them with this serum.” he held up a vial, and Phil’s head began to pound when he recognised the MI5’s familiar blue strip decorating the small plastic vial. He tried to sit up. “So you _are_ rogue MI5!” he accused. Dan laughed. “No, you idiot, I stole FA from your agency a few months ago.” at Phil’s confused expression, he giggled. “Trust me, it’s not hard. Your security is bullshit.” then he continued. “I stole a bunch of serums, obviously made for interrogation, and mixed them together.” a sad smile appeared on the boy’s face. “But none of them have worked.” he mumbled. “They all just go brain-dead and it..it modifies their genetics.”

Phil couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Then _don’t_ mix them?!” he hissed. Dan shrugged. “I tried that with Rosie, just giving her a dose of Forced Romantics,” his expression darkened. “But her heart stopped, and I panicked, injecting a bunch of other serums into her. She finally woke up, but she was..” he trailed off and Phil swore he caught a gleam of fear in the boy’s eyes. _“Different.”_

Phil stared at the boy. Dan wasn’t some psycho kid trying to mess with human nature, he was a lovesick kid trying to find love through chemical influence. Phil shivered. “Then came James,” Dan sighed. “He wasn’t much better. He screamed a lot though.” when Phil didn’t answer, Dan straightened up, that manic grin returning. “So, uh, I haven’t had a breakthrough yet, but you, agent Phil Lester,” Dan smirked suggestively. “You could be my own personal miracle!”

Dan smiled gently, tracing Phil’s cheeks with his fingers. Phil, for some reason, didn’t hiss out in disgust or terror. “Plus, you have really nice eyes.”

Phil took it back. Dan _was_ a fucking psychopath. Dan readied the syringe and he tried to shoot forwards, but he was yanked back by the straps. “You can’t force me to fall in love with you!” he started to scream, his tone heightening in panic. “Are you fucking crazy? It didn’t work with the others, so why the hell would it suddenly work with me?!” he suddenly felt himself go feral, his entire body filling with adrenaline from fear. He tried to bite at the straps securing him, but Dan just wafted his mouth away. Dan knelt in front of him with that maniacal grin, holding the syringe. “Phil,” Dan smirked, his breath tickling his face. “Eurgh!” Phil tried to twist away, but there was nowhere to go. Dan smiled down at him. “I think this will work because I’ve seen the way you look at me.” Phil squeezed his eyes shut then, refusing to look at him. Dan’s voice wafted in his ears, drowning his thoughts. “Phil, this will work, because I think you’re already in love with me.”

“No.” Phil kept his eyes shut. “No, you’re wrong! You’re crazy!” his eyes flew open as he tried one last ditch effort to escape, but Dan was already beside him, oh god. Before he could wrench his arm or kick out at the crazy little shit, he felt the pinprick. He felt Dan pushing the plunger, and he felt whatever fucked up concoction was in Dan’s magical fucking syringe, being forced straight through several layers of skin and cartilage and finally into his bloodstream.

Phil held his breath, keeping his eyes shut. He felt tears dribble down his cheeks in fear as his entire body seemed to freeze. He felt his heartbeat quicken, his confused brain hit out at the strange mixture of chemicals hitting it all at once. And then, when he thought he might be okay, when Dan’s soft voice pierced the surface of his consciousness- “Phil?”

He felt his head bounce against his neck then, as his entire body relaxed, his brain started to shut down, his arms and legs tingled and his eyes started to flicker- glimpses of his black t-shirt registered in his doped up mind in single snapshots, as if he was watching an old video-tape. And then when he was absolutely sure he was maybe okay, when he was about to lift his head up and start screeching at Dan but also maybe crying in relief, his entire body and maybe from the sudden agonising pain ripping up and down his body, his entire _existence,_ burst into flames.

-

PART 2: - DAN

Dan had to admit it. He had never had much feelings for any of his subjects. It was if they fell in love _with_ him which was what mattered. But from the moment he caught sight of Agent Phil Lester’s inky black hair and cynical eye roll at the mercy of his young neighbours, he knew there was something there. How could he not like Phil though? The man was beautiful. Dan stared down at Phil, who was unconscious in the chair, his head ducked down so a mop of luscious black hair the colour of a raven’s feathers, fell in the man’s closed eyes. Phil looked peaceful. And Dan had to admit it with a small smile, that Phil was more beautiful when he was asleep, and not raging and screeching insults at the top of his voice. Dan leaned forward and pressed his ear to the man’s shirt, listening for a heartbeat. That was key in figuring out if his test had worked. It looked pretty promising, I mean, Phil hadn’t flatlined like Rosie, or started convulsing like the others. He just kind of sat there, his head bowed, sleeping peacefully.

Dan’s lips stretched into a small smile when he heard and felt a familiar ba bump of a heartbeat, which was already a lot better than the others. James’s heartbeat had been strange and off kilter. It had felt like it was racing and then slowing down, and then speeding back up again. Rosie’s, once he had revived her with another dose of serum, had been very slow, almost undetectable. But she was alive, and…well not exactly okay but at least she was alive, right?

Phil’s breath was shuddery, Dan noticed, with a spike of panic. It sounded like he’d ran a marathon. Dan straightened up and surveyed his subj- no, he surveyed Phil Lester. There was no change in skin colour, like the others. His skin stayed it’s normal, pallid white. Dan folded his arms. So what was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he waking up?

Suddenly there was a rustle, and Dan twisted around, away from an unconscious Phil, to Rosie’s cage, where impossibly, the girl- the mute girl who had communicated with squeaks at him for the last few months, stood up, her face twisted with anger and fear. Her green eyes, practically luminous, glared daggers at him. Rosie’s hair was long, he realized. Very long. Almost rapunzel long. The girl gripped the bars of her cage, opened her mouth and growled in a not-Rosie voice and for once, Daniel Howell was the one who was scared. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Rosie?” he managed to choke out, but Rosie shook her head. “No, no, Phil, you idiot!” then she seemed to grasp a look at her surroundings and she..or he? Hissed at him. “What, you’ve locked me in a cage already?” her tone dripped with disgust. “So I’m guessing I’m a fucking failure then.”

Dan only stared. “Phil.” he said, or rather whimpered. “Phil, you’re-” but he was suddenly interrupted by a loud intake of breath from behind him. He turned, confusion written all over his face, to Phil, who had sprung awake, gasping and choking. But as Dan stared and tried to figure out what the hell was going on he realized the eyes he thought were beautiful, the pretty blue eyes of a pre-dawn sky which had attracted him to Phil Lester in the first place. They were gone. And in their place were eyes that matched Rosie’s, and James’s- eyes of a human who had been turned into a not-quite-human. Phil’s eyes blazed a shrill, almost painful to look at, bright green.

“Oh god,” Phil’s voice didn’t match his eyes, which definitely weren’t human. He sounded terrified and confused, and upset, and..human- unlike James or Rosie, who couldn’t utter english. “Oh my god, what did you do to me?!” the man cried, struggling underneath the velcro straps.

Dan was speechless. He had seen this before on..oh god, was it anime? Yes! He’d seen it on an anime. The ability to possess another human being while being unconscious. But in real life?! Dan let out a shaky sigh as he studied Phil who stared back at him accusingly, bright green eyes practically screeching at him. He’d seen weird things. He’d seen Rosie breath fire and James chew through metal. He’d seen Jamie sprout wings and Hannah run faster than the speed of light. But he had never seen this. Dan stared at Phil, and the agent stared back.

And Dan knew exactly what Phil was going to do. “So let me get this completely straight,” the man growled before twisting around and ramming his head into the glass stand of medical equipment. Dan winced. “If I knock myself out,” Phil gasped with pain as he repeated the action, once again slamming his head into the glass. “I can go into somebody’s body?” Phil’s voice was weak now, his eyes on the brink of shutting as he readied himself for the final blow which would surely knock him out. Dan started to move forward, to try and stop the man, but Phil had already, with his last strength, slammed himself into glass for the last time. Blood splattered the surface as well as Phil’s head, and the man didn’t get back up. He lay there, his face plastered over the glass, a scarlet trail running down his forehead, onto his cheeks, and splashing on the glass.

“Shit!” with realisation, Dan spun around and faced his other captives. “Phil!” he growled. The agent was in one of them. “You don’t understand, if you let them out you’ll be endangering everyone outside!” he shrieked. He was met by silence. “Do you understand?!”

For some reason he turned to look at Phil’s body, unconscious and bloody,  draped across the medical table.

“No.” there was a voice, and Dan nearly jumped out of his skin, twisting around to meet eyes with Rosie once again- or now - Phil. The agent in Rosie’s body glared at him through the girl’s eyes. “I see you didn’t lock her cage.” Rosie said with Phil’s growl. “Is that because you thought she’s some kind of braindead freak?” the edges of Rosie’s lips curl into a small smile and Dan curses under his breath. “Phil, don’t you fucking dare.” he growled. But Rosie was already making her way to the cage’s door, grabbing onto the metal prongs and pushing it open, allowing Phil Lester occupying the body of the fire-breathing girl, to walk out, finally free from captivity.

“See!” Phil said in Rosie’s voice. He lifted her arms up in happiness for the girl. “She’s free! Let her go!” he started to walk over to the basement steps, but then stopped and seemed to have trouble walking. “Oh god.” Rosie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she collapsed in a heap. Almost automatically, Phil once again sat up in his body, shaking and gasping for breath. Dan was frozen, watching Rosie, as she seemed to come to, slowly standing up in ratty shorts and t-shirt, too stained and splattered with crap to tell what colour they originally were.

Dan watched in awe and horror as Rosie took one took at them, stretching her lips into a grin, and then rushing over, unlocking her companions cages. Phil was too shaken, sitting in the chair still strapped down, he watched Rosie, sputtering fire, James and his manic, shark grin and Jamie, with two bird-like wings sticking out of his spine- rush out of their cages in excitement. But they didn’t say anything- they were mute- their minds had been reduced to those of animals.

Hannah, a girl with short brown hair pulled into pigtails, who looked like she had been originally a runner, disappeared in a strobe of light, following the others as they rushed up the steps, straight out into the outside world.

When they were gone, and Dan had gotten over his shock, he spat at Phil, who was still trying to process what was happening. “You fucking idiot!” Dan untied his Velcro straps and helped him up, before hitting him in the side. Phil snapped out of it and let out a howl. “What was _that_ for?!” he turned his terrifying inhuman green eyes on Dan accusingly, once again.

_“What was that?”_ Dan mimicked. “You just let out a bunch of genetically modified freaks with the brain function of ROCKS into the real world and you’re asking what you did wrong?!”

Phil didn’t reply, only huffed in frustration. His eyes seemed to glow even _brighter_  if that was even possible. 

Dan flinched slightly. _Not even an ounce of affection?_ he studied Phil’s eyes, currently blazing with hatred.  “Wait..” Dan let out a small gasp. “You’re not in love with me?” for a second, he forgot about the escaped freaks with genetic enhancements. Before the others had gone brain dead, they had at least announced their undying love for him- he remembered James even pouncing on him with teeth, already curling into fangs. 

Phil scoffed. “Love you?!” he spluttered “You turned me into a fucking science experiment, I hate you!” the man started towards him, murder in his eyes. “I swear to god, Dan, when we’ve rounded up these freaks, I’m arresting you for quite literally every single human sin you could _ever_  commit.” Phil’s eyes were angry, and his lips were curled in disgust, but when Dan took the smallest step towards him, his expression softened. 

Dan frowned, folding his arms. _I have to know. “_ Mm.” he murmured, and took a small wary step towards Phil, who didn’t back away. _“_ So, you’re telling me,” Dan slowly wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck and pulled him close. Phil didn’t move, but his cheeks flushed. Dan couldn’t help grinning. Phil looked _almost_  human again. “That you don’t feel anything at all?” and then Dan was kissing Phil, and Phil, the agent for the MI5 he had turned into some kind of enhanced human, leaned into him and pulled him closer.

“You little shit,” Phil murmured into the kiss. Damn, were Phil’s lips soft. “I feel _nothing_  for you.” but the elder’s mouth hungrily grasped for his lips. 

“Sure.” Dan smirked, but then quickly pulled away, and soon as he had, Phil seemed to snap out of it- wrenching himself away. “Eurgh, what the hell?!” the man seemed oblivious to his recent actions and Dan’s stomach dropped. 

_Was it the serum?_

_Later_. Dan mentally hissed at himself. For now, he had to find those kids.

“Come on,” Dan turned to Phil, rolling his eyes. “You let them out, you’re helping me find them.”

Phil opened his mouth to reply, but nothing seemed to come out. Before he could do anything, like for example, try and make a run for it himself, Dan grabbed him. “You’re helping me find them whether you like it or not.” and before Phil could try and argue, Dan grabbed him, wrenching him across the room with impossible strength- and suddenly, it clicked in Phil’s mind.

 Everything seemed to slip into place.

Of course! How had Phil not realised it?

Dan had tested it on himself. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So as I said on Tumblr, if you guys like this- I'll be posting a Part 3 on New Years day! :) Tell me whatcha think! :3


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